


What the World Is

by Loverman8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Character Development, Complicated Relationships, Dark Harry, Depression, Dimension Travel, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Existential Angst, Intrigue, Magic, Politics, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverman8/pseuds/Loverman8
Summary: Murder, fantasy, intrigue, and drama - all qualities of a good story. Unfortunately, for one Harry Potter, that’s just what the world is.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue - All That Was

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoys! Here’s a prologue to get you started.

Lily jumped at the sound of thunder.

It’s an old habit, one from childhood - she couldn’t remember anymore what had started it, only that she had always been terrified of storms. Even Lily was susceptible to the infamous Gryffindor pride, and she chafed at admitting fear of anything so mundane, but it was true. She woke regularly from nightmares of lightning and booming noise.

Well, that and Dark Lords. 

Voldemort, more often referred to as You-Know-Who, was certainly an object of her terror. Unlike storms, though, that one was entirely rational. She had to be afraid of him, had to be petrified, because otherwise she’d be destroyed. She’d seen it firsthand - colleagues, fellow students, felled by the Dark Lord’s wand because they got too cocky. Too confident. 

She couldn’t deny that he unnerved her, but there was a lot of merit to Mad Eye’s mantra of Constant Vigilance. 

So, she dutifully went into hiding. Or, tried to, anyway. James was making it difficult. He insisted on staying at Godric’s Hollow, and then demanded that Sirius, Remus, and Peter be let in on the secret. Couldn’t he see that was a danger they couldn’t afford? Didn’t he care that Death Eaters could be anywhere?? 

She swore she had even seen him sneaking out with that cloak of his. One of these days she may kill him. That way, Voldemort wouldn’t get the chance to. 

It fell on her once again to make a plan. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide forever, especially if her husband and his gaggle of friends insisted on behaving that way. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was coming. She was sure of it. So, like she always had when faced with a problem she couldn’t solve, she delved into her books. 

Day and night, at every opportunity she got, she poured over modern and ancient tomes alike. Albus, being the power behind the fidelius, had access to their house. At her request, he brought books from the Hogwarts Library. He seemed to think they would accomplish nothing. 

Then again, Albus was determined in another way. 

She still remembered the look in his eyes when he told them about the prophecy. They shone, gleamed instead of twinkled, like pools or else bright blue orbs. 

Fanaticism.

That was what the prophecy had inspired in her old headmaster. The same devotion Bellatrix Lestrange reeked of the few times they managed to capture her. It wasn’t reasonable, wasn’t logical, it went deeper than it should have. 

It scared her. 

She couldn’t trust him the same way as James apparently could - couldn’t simply go along with his half-assed plan. He has spouted some nonsense about love, about how her powerful love for her son might protect him from even the untouchable killing curse. Some esoteric magical phenomenon that should defend him if the Dark Lord came knocking. 

Key word being “should”. Because there were no guarantees. Only possibilities. 

James had eaten it up. He thought she was overreacting, thought she should “Relax, sometimes, Lils!”. Her cheeks pinked slightly at the memory, and unconsciously her hands tightened into fists. 

He was always so condescending. In Hogwarts, when he’d assumed his cocky flirting would be enough to make her forget all of the awful bullying, when he would push over Marlene or whoever was sitting with her to throw a hand over her shoulder. God, his ego! He didn’t get that him being a light-oriented pure-blood didn’t mean he had the right to walk all over anybody. Sometimes, she thought he didn’t even know he was doing it.

She snorted quietly to herself. Ha! Light side wizards. Sure. She knew how much Sirius hated his family, and she also knew how much it would anger him to know he inherited a lot. Temperament, but also the rest of it.

Muggles were “cool”, especially pertaining to things like motorcycles, but they were... different. Slow. Lesser. 

They both genuinely believed that Lily was lucky to have garnered their notice. 

The worst part is, they were right. 

She had tried to deny it for so long. Tried to drown out common sense, to pretend it wasn’t true, to desperately cling to misshapen idealism. She had lost her best friend over it.   
But, when she started her 7th year at Hogwarts, she had to face facts. 

She was head girl. She had the best grades Hogwarts has seen for 30 years. Everyone else in her position would have been scouted for a Ministry position. Given offers, from the Auror academy, or as a potions apprentice- someone should have shown interest. 

And she had no prospects at all. 

Being muggleborn negated all of it.

She had laughed in Severus’ face the first time he explained. Had naively thought it was just his own quickly developing prejudice. But as she prepared to graduate, she understood that she had alarmingly few options.

And a waiting pure-blood suitor. One completely, hopelessly in love with her.

So, she’d grit her teeth! No more pranking. No more goofing off. He’d get good grades, he’d accept his responsibilities as the future of the House of Potter, and she’d go on a date with him. 

Honestly, she was a bit surprised. She hadn’t expected to move so fast - hadn’t expected to marry right out of school. She had, at one point, even hoped to go to University. 

It seemed kind of like a whirlwind of a relationship to her. They’d only gone on twelve dates in total. Twelve! All of them school-related! James almost seemed to think it was overkill. Sirius was certainly expecting the offer. Remus had said nothing. 

Remus... didn’t ever really say anything. 

Just another way she didn’t understand wizardkind. She smiled a bit sardonically. A mudblood until the very end. It was only the darker leaning pure-bloods that spat it to her face, but.. it seemed to be everywhere these days. 

She sighed softly. 

She tiptoed over to her drawer and pulled out a letter. Unsealed. 

‘Severus Snape’ in neat print on the front. 

She had been furious when she’d first seen it. How dare he approach her! How dare he, when he was-

When he was a Death Eater. 

Her best friend was a Death Eater. 

It still hurt to think about it. Severus hadn’t been her friend for a long time - the ‘mudblood’ incident was only the straw that broke the camel’s back - but she really didn’t think he’s stoop that low. Sure, she’s been frustrated at his choice of friends back at Hogwarts. Of course she’d noticed how there seemed to be no holds barred after they’d stopped talking. 

But... she hadn’t thought he would join up with the terrorists.

Making up her mind, she checked to make sure James was still asleep. Quietly muttered a charm to keep him that way. She left the room, left her baby and her husband, left the house with only her wand and his invisibility cloak. 

It was freezing, and the cloak wasn’t exactly meant for this weather, but she carried on until she passed both the ward-lines and the fidelius’ range. She spun and disapparated. 

All was silent, except for the pitter-patter of raindrops on grass. 

———

She appeared in Diagon Alley’s apparition point, not that anyone would see her. Ducking into Nocturne, ignoring her slight shudder of revulsion, she looked for the address Severus sent.

“What are you doing here?” She whirled. 

Staring right behind her was a man with dull red eyes. His black hair was matted, plastered onto dead-pale skin. 

He shouldn’t have been able to see her.

“I know you’re there. I can’t see you, but I don’t need to.”

The words were weighted in the dark. 

She took a slow step back. 

“Your footsteps. They’re loud to me.”

She stopped walking. A heartbeat. Then she ran. 

She ran until she couldn’t, until she felt a stitch in her side and it hurt to breathe. She shrugged off the cloak that felt suddenly too warm. 

She shouldn’t be here. She should be at home with her son. Her baby- Voldemort was coming for her baby and instead of being with him she was sneaking out and tiptoeing into the most dangerous shopping center she knew. 

What was she even doing here?

“Lily?” 

Oh. Right. That. 

“Hello, Severus.” 

“Lily, you came.” He looked so hopeful, then. It was like a desperate light in his black eyes. 

She had always loved them. Everyone talked about hers, and it’s true they were unique, but his were so deep. 

“You said something about a book. Something that’ll help.”

“Lily-“ Why did he have to make it so hard? 

“Severus, I’m not here to-“, she looked down and scoffed, “to make it better.” 

He said nothing for a long moment. She didn’t know if he would look crestfallen; in those later years, even just at Hogwarts, his occlumancy had tightened, and nothing showed on his face anymore. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He led her into a restaurant. It was late, which didn’t seem to matter, because the place was full and almost vibrant. He pulled them into a booth in a back corner. They were hidden by a curtain. 

He opened his mouth to speak.

“Severus, let’s cut to the chase. You said in your letter that you had something, a book, that would help me defend Harry from- You-Know-Who. Let me have it, please.” 

“Did you read the rest of it?” 

She finally looked up at him. 

“I’m sorry?”

“The rest of my letter. Did you read it, or did you just throw it away like the other ones?”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m asking if you read my letter.”

She purses her lips. If he insists on being difficult, she’ll meet him halfway.

“I read the letter. I know you’re sorry.”

“Do you?”

“It doesn’t matter, not right now. Just give me the book.” 

He waits a beat, obviously hesitating. His eyes flit around the small restaurant. After a moment, he produces his wand; he concentrates and flicks it in a series of movements she recognized as a privacy charm. Not as strong as a ward, but less noticeable (not to mention it takes a fraction of the time to erect.) 

“Lily, please. Listen to me. I would never want to hurt you.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Are we really having this conversation right now? Here?”

“I need to explain. I have to make you understand.”

“Make me understand?” She glared and was satisfied to see him flinch slightly. “I understand perfectly well. You’re a Death Eater. One of his most trusted, if rumors are to be believed-“

“I’ve given it all up for you-“

“That’s just it, Severus! You believe in his nonsense! You believe that muggleborns are less worthy of magic, that they’ve stolen it from good pureblood children, that they’re uneducated and lesser and poisoning the magical world! You are a member of a terrorist organization - murders and rapists! By choice! The only reason we’re even here right now is because you care about me for some reason. It’s not enough.”

“Lily, I-“

Now that she’d started talking she couldn’t seem to stop. 

“No! You don’t get to swoop in and apologize now. You don’t get to drag me here and beg for forgiveness after everything you’ve done. You don’t have the right to forgiveness. What you do get to do is hand over the supposed solution to my problem. Then leave.”

She knows she’s said her piece. For all that she accused him of having a temper, she knew she was worse. She should have stopped there. Gone home.

But she’s so angry. 

“You know what?” She chuckles mirthlessly. “I was right. All those years ago. You’re nothing like your father. You’re worse.” 

For once, the silence between them is deafening.

His face is painfully blank; it looks at though it’s been pulled taught with the force of his composure. His eyes have gone dim with what could have been fury. 

His hands don’t shake when he puts the book on the table. 

Blinking back sudden tears (why was she crying, she was RIGHT) she grabbed the book. She couldn’t linger here - it was late. Her family needed her.

She didn’t look back to see his face. Didn’t whisper any parting words.

She didn’t let herself regret it.

——-

She didn’t touch the book for days, didn’t even get the chance to sit down. Instead, she was consumed with managing Harry. He was a demanding baby - although he was quiet for his age. 

Almost one year old. A year! That time spent without any other children. Without public parks, or restaurants, or travel. A year in hiding that felt less like a year’s worth of life and more like marks on a calendar. 

She watched herself become weary with detached fascination. 

James never touched her bookshelf, for utter lack of interest, so it sat collecting dust.

Until it didn’t. 

It was, somewhat fittingly, the dead of night. A charm kept her husband and baby asleep through any noise she made as she tiptoed into her personal office. 

(It had been nothing to.. suggest that James wanted private offices in his “cottage”.)

The tome was loud in the dark, aggressively inconspicuous but still somehow managing to catch her attention. It was heavy as well; more heavy, perhaps, than the pages themselves were.

More than the sum of its parts.

She went to open it. Unlike the previous times, it seemed to understand the significance of the moment - when she touched the cover, she felt a shock nor unlike static electricity. She had been a witch long enough to recognize magic in the air. 

The evening was a blur. The following day even more so.

The ramifications bled through history like ink on papyrus.


	2. The Incident in Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A question goes unanswered, and an orphanage gets a new face.

**What the World Is- Chap.**

“Do you blame yourself?”

“What?”

“It’s quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a kind of...guilt.

“What situation?”

“The accident.”

—-

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, did he know anything?”

“He’s eight!”

“That wasn’t an answer, Jason!”

He stopped suddenly, forcing her to take a step back.

She fingered her clipboard.

“He’s an eight year-old boy, Kenna. The house went up in _black flames._ What could you possibly be accusing him of?”

“He was unresponsive, silent at the scene-“

“Let me guess, he was pale with big pupils? He was in shock!”

“He wasn’t dazed, Jason. He wasn’t clammy, his pupils were **not** enlarged, and his pulse was perfectly normal. It wasn’t shock. It was something else.”

“So, what, you think he’s some kind of baby sociopath?” He scoffed, then turned to continue walking.

“I _think_ there’s a reason we called in psych for this.”

“Yes, because his entire family just died in a massive fire.”

“While he watched!”

He leveled her with a supremely unimpressed look.

“So, you’re accusing him of not saving them from what took a battalion of firefighters to beat back. The eight year old.”

She flushed.

“There’s something more here. I’m telling you, he creeps me out!” Despite his telling silence, she pressed. “What did, um, Denvers think?”

Wordlessly, he passed over the chart.

“Ah, see! ‘Stoic...worryingly quiet...’ He’s practically naming him a suspect.”

“He’s a **suspect** now?”

“Look-“

“No, you look. That child is traumatized.” He pressed the elevator button with one gloved finger. “We are lucky he’s just inattentive - in his place, I’d be a gibbering mess! His entire family was swallowed by creepy fire while he could do nothing but watch. His home, his _life_ , is gone. I’m done talking about this.”

The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. She watched as he got on; as she wasn’t leaving the floor, she could do nothing but stare in aggravation until he disappeared above her.

Muttering to herself, she turned to walk back to the lab.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not calling him a murderer! I’m just saying he’s acting weird.”

Spotting her coworker, she sped up. Her boots clacked on the resin floor.

“Zack! Zack, look at this. Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“I’m afraid, Kenna, that I must disappoint.”

“You haven’t even read it!”

“And yet, you _are_ crazy. It would be dishonorable of me to lie right to your face.”

Glaring at him, she shoved the mess of papers into his arms.

“I’m serious. Look this over.”

He did, his face growing more pensive as she knew it would. She fought to keep a smirk off of her face. Despite having a bit of a reputation, Zack had never dismissed her claims out of hand. She wasn’t _crazy,_ she just.. was a bit more “out there” than some of the staff. She knew he’d listen to her and not just let a potentially dangerous patient be sent off to some foster home.

“So, what, the subject is shifty? It could be anything. Keep an eye out, monitor him, tag any suspicious behavior.”

“That’s just it, they’re just planning to ship him out to a home-“

“Wait. A home? How old is this guy?”

He became irritated at her silence, and more so when she refused to meet his eyes.

“Kenna?”

“He’s eight, ok? Eight years old.”

Before she could defend herself, incredulity spread across his face.

“Jesus, do you have some kind of vendetta? Why do you suspect this kid?”

She glared mildly up at him.

“You just said you would keep an eye out.”

“That was before I knew he was a kid! His behavior is still... weird, but honestly, you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. At least he’s not nuts.”

“I don’t know, Zack. It’s not just that he’s odd. He... he creeps me out. He’s _freaky._ ”

She looked at him imploringly, hoping he would read the rare sincerity in her eyes.

He scratched his stubble, looking pained.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Kenna. I can’t back you on this one.”

It was her turn to look betrayed, then, as she grabbed the papers and re-attached them to her clipboard. She stormed off.

She needed some coffee.

Ripping off a glove, she pressed the button indicating a cappuccino. She watched as the murky liquid poured into her cup. It smelled wonderful.

She was not going to let this lie. There was something to be said for stubbornness, and she had a bad feeling about this kid. Ok, fine, so her other bad feelings hadn’t panned out. Yes, it’s true that she had received warnings from the boss not to breach protocol. But damn it if her gut wasn’t telling her something here!

Her coffee was done.

Taking a sip, she pulled her clipboard open again. Sighing softly, she resigned herself to a long day of paperwork. Nothing else to be done, she supposed, but there was some urgency pulling at the back of her mind.

Another sip of coffee.

There were a lot of slow days lately. She’d petitioned her boss to spend more hours in the patient wing - meet a few crazies, spice up her day - but they needed her here. At least she got an office now. The cubicle sucked; The smell of week-old curry was burned into her brain forever.

As she walked back towards the elevator, she didn’t turn her head. Didn’t follow the cloaked man into the left wing.

He escaped her notice completely.

Among other things.

——

_Why are you afraid?_

_Get out, GET OUT-_

_We think it’s best that you live somewhere else from now on. Of course you understand..._

~~_You know why I am afraid._ ~~

_——_

The boy known as Harry Potter was unsure where he’d gotten the name. He had no recollection of his toddler years, no flashes of insight or else memories buried in dreams.

He couldn’t remember a first day of primary school either. There must have been one - he knew English after all, and basic maths, and science, and he knew for **sure** the Dursley’s hadn’t taught him.

They had taught him lots of other things.

But he couldn’t remember sitting around a fuzzy rug and learning the days of the week. Couldn’t remember lunch time with the other children. All he recalled was a dark room and a sharp light and a man with a glass clipboard.

He was alone with memories that didn’t match and far too much time on his hands.

Adults didn’t really play a factor in his little life. They phased in and out, like men behind thick curtains, and he would catch snippets of what they were doing. Sometimes it had to do with him. “ _Gifted”,_ they’d say _. “Odd”._ Other times they’d ignore him completely (it galled him every time, how dare they pretend that he wasn’t there, that he wasn’t _listening)_ or laugh too loudly at him when they thought he couldn’t see.

There were the Millers, who’d kept him for three months. Then the Johnsons for half a year. He’d been picked up by a girl who went by Shank and hauled around in her trailer for a while until she dropped him off in a police station in London.

Nothing stayed, nothing stuck; there were plenty of people, but he was alone. It was better that way.

Most recently, he’d been relocated to what seemed to be a massive foster home. Orphanage was a good word.

(He liked finding the best words for things, trapping their flavors in language like Pandora’s box. Good books were like that - they shoved the whole world between pages. Spat it back at you. Harry loved good books.)

He didn’t have too high hopes for this place.

It was run down, obviously old and obviously crumbling. Despite looking like it would pass a basic health inspection, it was clear that no one really cared. It was practically barren.

Harry wasn’t an idiot. He knew what was important in the world - even in his little life, he’d seen it first hand.

Political power, wealth, intellect.. and the freedom to exercise those things.

Harry knew he didn’t have any of that at the moment. He was a no-name orphan, abandoned by a suburban nightmare of a family and set out to drift. He had no connections, no money, no opportunities at all.

It disgusted him.

He was meant for better than this. He could feel it. He was smarter- _better_ than the others around him. They were just useless children toddling around, sticking their fingers into things and making messes. Illiterate fools.

The adults were even worse. Corruptible, slimy and incompetent- there were plenty to pick from. Each less worthy than the rest. 

The worst part about them, all of them, was how simple they were. Like mindless drones. Doing what they thought they should nevermind what they had to. So unstable all it took was the wind to tip them over.

It was ridiculous, if occasionally convenient. He was certainly willing to take advantage. Still.. sometimes it felt like he was just so different. Destined to stare at the rest of the world through a curtain or else stained glass. Dye bleeding through.

It was still infuriating to have to settle for second-hand books. To have teachers gaze upon him, _him,_ with thinly-veiled disgust. To have to earn recognition starting ten paces behind the rest.  
  


It had been this way for so long - as long as he could remember. Before, he’d not even tried to fight against it, resigned or at least desensitized to the uphill climb that was his life. He trudged through chores upon chores, desperate to receive some fort of approval. Some indication that he was valued even as he grew to despise the world. Like a beaten puppy. 

Since then he had learned to.. compensate for this in other ways. Learned how to not just make people do what he wanted but **think** the way he wanted. How to stand, sit, breathe and talk, twisting their perception all the while. Soon they forgot all about his rags. Only what he wanted was left.

And the ones who thought they could get away with something? He changed their opinions a little more forcefully.

(Once upon a time he was nothing. He built himself from blood and ash.)

So, stepping up to his home for the foreseeable future, he had some expectation of what was to come.

Still a chill of foreboding swept through him. The place felt.. heavy, the way his other houses didn’t. Permanent. The air was charged. He knew somehow that he would be entering the next chapter of his life when he stepped through those doors. It made him hesitant.

For a moment.

  
Against his will he traveled back, back to his original home. For a heart-stopping second he was in his cupboard; cramped and stuffy but so, so cold. Always hungry. Always tired. Always one moment away from the darkness that crept up behind him, all encompassing and immutable.   
  


Then, he shook himself, and scowled at his own weakness. He wasn’t that person anymore. He _wasn’t._

He resumed walking up to the large double doors. The grass curled around his feet, as if a gentle breeze had come to sweep them away.

In the distance, you could hear church bells ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to introduce the story - almost more so than the prologue. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Desperate Measures

There is a certain progression to the development of a human. Things they do, will do, or strive to do at some point in their lives. Milestones to be celebrated but inevitable all the same.

Naturally, Harry was ahead of schedule.

He wasn’t exactly sure how ahead, however, until he met the children of the orphanage.

Before then, he’d known he was special - faster, better, less inclined to shove various pastes in his mouth. Just by trying to focus he was ahead of the curve; by the time his peers had gathered enough collective willpower to learn the alphabet he had been reading chapter books.

But he’d never interacted intimately with the other children. He’d rarely even spoken to them, first never having the opportunity and then losing interest. They didn’t seem like much to him.

(It certainly wasn’t that they didn’t like him. Thought he was weird and creepy and quiet and cold. Odd.)

They were always so close and yet so far from him that they seemed like they lived in different worlds.

This all changed when he arrived at the orphanage.

Suddenly, he was forced into close quarters with children of all ages. He ate with them, went to school with them, watched them play- the boys ran around the yard behind the building and threw makeshift footballs while the girls watched and giggled.

They were _insufferable._

Their disdain was mutual, it seemed, as within a few months Harry had already been designated an outcast. As a consequence of this he retreated further into his studies; he was determined to rise above them. To prove they could never touch him.

It was after three months, when Harry was around seven and a half, when disdain turned to fear.

_He was reading in the yard, under a chestnut tree. While he mostly preferred to read nonfiction, he occasionally indulged in a novel; this time, it was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. He_ _loved_ _enjoyed the mystical story. It was interesting to him that, unlike most children’s books, it didn’t shy away from more macabre themes. Behind every moment of wonder was gruesome death. It was beautiful._

_“Hey! Kid!”_

_Looking up, he saw that Joe Kipton, one of the louder teenagers populating Lonely Orphans, was yelling at him._

_He snapped his book shut._

_“Yes, what is it?”_

_He tried to communicate his displeasure at being interrupted. It didn’t seem to work._

_“What are you doing?” He demanded._

_People were gathering, taking interest in the proceedings; after all, Harry had a reputation for being silent. Noncommunicative to a fault._

_Harry raised an eyebrow._

_“Reading.” He didn’t let it become a question._

_“Yeah? Reading a girl book?”_

_He glanced down, noticing Alice on the cover. People chuckled. He felt his cheeks grow warm and scowled._

_“Look guys, the weirdo’s reading pretty Princess books.”_

_“Well, at least I_ **_can_ ** _read.”_

_He saw Joe’s face contort in anger._

_“You calling me stupid?”_

_Clapping slowly, he drawled,_

_“Wow, most impressive, he can keep up a conversation! This must be a first for you.”_

Suddenly he had been on the ground. The world spun, his head throbbed, he actually had dirt in his mouth. When he spit it out, blood came away with it. He touched his face with a shaking hand. His tooth was loose.

He was filled with such rage then, such transcendental fury, that he felt his eyes cloud. His whole body shook. He felt charged - like a single nudge would send him off.

Distantly, he heard the other children laughing. Distantly, he noticed the orphanage matron coming to check out the situation. Immediately, though, all he processed was the boy in front of him and the roaring in his ears.

And then he wasn’t in front of him. He was flying through the air; propelled by an unseen force into the far wall. The crash finally brought him back to the present, in time to catch the Directress staring at him. Aghast and appalled - but also terrified.

His hands, no longer shaking, almost seemed to glow.

He was in a daze all the way inside, barely even noticing the harsh tug on his ear.

He refocused. The Directress appeared incensed and frazzled, her hair fighting to escape the tight bun into which it was tied. She was berating him, for what he wasn’t sure because _what was that_ but he did catch the part when she condemned him to the closet for the night.

“... and no supper!”

The door slammed behind her. He was alone.

He was breathing heavily, not bleeding anymore but still dirty. When he tapped his tooth again, though, he was started to find it in perfect condition - there was no indication he’d been punched.

All at once his head hurt; everything was too loud and bright. Harry realized his mouth was dry, and he was wracked with small tremors. Apparently he was still jittery from whatever force had possessed him earlier.

_Possessed? Really? Is now the time to start believing in all of that?_

_….Is there any other explanation?_

Almost unwittingly his mind turned to the faintest of his early memories. There were glaring holes, missing chunks that caused his whole experience to fade gently into the background. Taken over by other homes. After all, what good was it remembering the Dursleys? Still, he forced himself past self-erected barriers in his mind and remembered something relevant.

Bursts of light, fire maybe? Lots of yelling. Floating knives (and pots and pans) accompanied by the same charged feeling. Though, he noted, not to the same degree - it was almost muted before. Dulled.

Regardless, it was at full strength now. Like the rushing water of a roaring ocean, the full heat of a wildfire - like ice and earth and the whole world between his fingers.

It felt wonderful.

Smiling widely, he jumped - only to feel his head swim. Almost no light peaked through the crack between the floor and closet door, and he was exhausted. Building a makeshift bed from toilet paper rolls took the last of his energy.

As he laid down to sleep, he wondered why he wasn’t more shocked. After all, he had.. powers! Magical powers! Still, all he felt was vindicated. Finally, here was concrete proof that he was special. That he was worth something. That his world was bigger than London’s somewhat seedy underbelly.

He fell asleep to ringing in his ears.

——

He woke up in the exact same position.

Old habits, made when he had all of three square feet to maneuver, caused him to shift only minimally in sleep. He had cramps from the hard floor and his head hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care - he had _magic!_ Real, actual, definitive magical powers. He was giddy with excitement.

He tried desperately to reposition his hair. It was stubborn, sticking up in all directions if left unchecked - it took copious amount of product to wrestle it into submission. It annoyed him to no end.

After making himself presentable, he stood and waited for someone to come for him.

And waited. And waited.

It was hours before anyone came to retrieve him - hours in the dark musty cabinet. There must have been spiders, after all it was the perfect environment for them, but he didn’t see them. He kept his eyes firmly on the door.

When it finally opened to reveal Janice Grey, a ratty nine year-old with a sneer, he had to blinkto adjust to the light.

“Get out, kid.”

Annoyed at being addressed to rudely, he replied,

“I’m not that much younger than you.” He planted his feet.

“You serious? You really want to start something right now?” She pivoted towards him with a raised brow.

“Yes. I do.” He stared unflinchingly, expected another snide remark. Instead, he was shocked to see her pale a little. She swallowed roughly. He followed the movement of her throat.

Turning abruptly, she walked faster. He frowned, and forced his smaller legs to catch up.

Before he could interrogate her further, they were already in the meal hall. Conversation quieted as he walked past. He felt their eyes on him, their attention on him, and straightened unconsciously. All the while

his back tingled.

Despite himself he felt self-conscious. The other children stared, some in suspicion and revulsion. Other looked upon him in admiration - those who had been tormented by Kipton’s gang seemed almost grateful. He smirked. Perhaps he would be able to wrestle some favors in exchange for protection. Assuming he could control these abilities of his. Which he would. Of course.

In fact, he was determined to spend the remainder of his day exploring them.

After a meager bowl of porridge, Harry almost ran out onto the courtyard; he was anxious to try some magic. He took a deep breath and unfurled his palm, trying to focus on the bright feeling inside of him.

And...

Nothing.

Scowling, he tried again. He even closed his eyes - maybe that would help him find the energy. His eyebrows screwed up in concentration. For a moment he marveled at the imagery; he was rummaging around his own body. Feeling with invisible hands. However hard he tried, though, he never got a hint of the special feeling.

He waited like that until darkness swallowed the yard.

—-

Progress was as good as nonexistent for weeks, and then months. Despite himself, he began to feel disheartened.. maybe it was just a one time occurrence? Every day he tried for hours, and every day he was exhausted with nothing to show for it.

He knew for **sure** he hadn’t imagined it - he trusted his own eyes more than anything - but maybe his power was inaccessible for now. The thought was as frustrating as it was inevitable.

Until the next incident.

The orphanage decided to send the children on a field trip. Harry had no idea why they would pay for an outing when they could barely pay for plumbing, but ultimately it wasn’t up to him. He still grumbled a bit. Just for show.

They had to stay in single-file lines, and were given strict instructions to _touch nothing._ He was loaded onto a bus that smelled of sweat and leather. The seatbelt burned his hand when he touched it. Sitting there, smushed between two older kids, he felt like a sardine packed into a can. The summer sun was harsh.

Emerging from the bus, he discovered that they had been dropped off near some kind of waterfall. It seemed they would be taking a hike. Oh joy.

It was humid and his clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably. His shoes, normally adequate, weren’t made for walking and as such his feet hurt. He was aggravated, his temper frayed and short, and eager to return home where he at least had access to reliable air conditioning. Still, he followed the pack dutifully.

When they’d finally arrived at what was apparently meant to be the highlight of the trip, he stayed behind for a few moments to catch his breath. Harry had never been particularly athletic, favoring a lean and tall build even for a child, and as such he was winded. He went to drink from his water bottle when he stilled- his senses detected another.

He turned around. Behind him was a duo - a boy and a girl. He didn’t recognize them on sight, which was odd because he knew everyone in the orphanage. He raised a single brow, twisting to give them his full attention. They both tensed, but relaxed and seemed to grow cocky.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Harry no-name.”

He frowned in confusion before schooling his features - he had a last name. Potter. Much as he loathed his plain name he had never made it a secret.

“What do you want? The group went down that hill.”

“We’re not interested in them, brat. We want to know what you did. How you beat the crap out of Joe so easily.”

Here the girl spoke for the first time. Her face was carefully blank, dark brown eyes deep and imploring.

“He’s barely spoken since.” The statement was weighty in the ensuing silence.

“Look, kid, we just want to know what you did, alright? We’ll leave you alone - all you have to do is tell us.”

With a start, Harry realized they were attempting to intimidate him. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so insulted.

“I have no obligation to tell you anything.”

They scowled in sync. It was kind of eerie.

“We tried to take it easy on you.” Though it was the boy that made the statement, the girl started to approach. She reached in her pocket, pulling out a small blade. He swallowed, nervous - he had never fought someone with a weapon. Her twin brands swished as she walked. “Honestly, we don’t have anything against you. You’re creepy as hell, sure, but not a problem as long as you stay away from us. If you have some kind of training? You become a problem.”

“Don’t struggle.” Was all the warning he got before she descended upon him. The razor had barely nicked him, though, when light exploded form his palms. Sparks crackled over his arms.

The girl was tossed across the clearing into a cave, the same way Joe had been weeks earlier. The boy looked terrified, breathing heavily with eyes blown wide open. Harry lips curled into a smirk.

The air was thick, not with humidity but with magic. He felt as though he could reach out and touch it, caress and manipulate the air, and that it was only a thin line preventing him from becoming one with the Earth entirely. He stood gasping for a few moments.

Then, he turned to the still-gaping children. They had started to back away but froze as his eyes landed on him. The power coalesced between his fingers. He flung it at them, following instinct, and watched as they screamed and scrambled to avoid it. The boy’s shirt caught fire, although he didn’t seem to notice. He backed them into a corner.

Later, they might have said it felt like being cornered by a predator. Like they were pinned by his gaze, fearful but wholly unable to move. They struggled to breathe against the pressure that came from all sides. They might have wondered at his origin, at how demonic he seemed there in the afternoon light. How he burned cold.

They might have said that if they were able to say anything at all. 


	4. Interesting is Relative

Even the existence of magic failed to make orphan life interesting. 

Despite his newfound abilities, Harry was powerless against the churning of everyday life. He ate, slept, attended school, and counted the days as they passed. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, and still weeks fell upon weeks without change. 

He bemoaned the consequences of his birth. His parents, whomever they were, had obviously not seen fit to equip him with anything. Despite his intelligence and charm he was a lowly orphan. It just wasn’t fair. Every day, he vowed to make something more of himself than they ever did.

He did become more adept at utilizing his powers, though. He practiced, again and again every day, and achieved some progress - by the time his ninth birthday rolled around, he could summon fire, lighting, light, water (sometimes; it was fickle) and wind. He could also perform levitation. It was still slow-going, but not nearly as hopeless as it was before the cave incident. 

Since then, Harry had re-examined some of his memories. It didn’t make sense that his magic had only suddenly popped up out of nowhere. Despite his skepticism, though, it seemed that it was true: he didn’t have any memory of these powers. What he  did find was arguably more interesting. 

He had always been able to tell when people lied. His most ingrained ability, he hadn’t even realized it was special until recently. He just..knew. Always. Harry always knew when someone lied to him. Looking back, he suspected it was some manifestation of his abilities. 

It wasn’t just lies though. Sometimes Harry seemed to know what people were thinking. Little hints, of when to push and bide his time - he felt them in the air. That could have just been a facet of his personality but he didn’t think so. After all, it made sense that his magic was helping him in that way. It was right. 

Natural.

Despite these achievements he was anchored by the mundane demands of his life. However, not all was the same.

More had tried to take advantage of him. They had failed, becoming increasingly desperate as time went on, until he had built enough of a reputation that he went untouched. No one dared eat with him, let alone sleep in his room.  His room. 

This had the unfortunate side effect of making adults around him more distrustful. When he was younger, he was...brash, loathe as he was to admit it, and revealed too much too fast. Now, the matron was suspicious of him at every turn. The others followed her lead. 

Even as he charmed various schoolteachers there was always the occasional side-eye. 

(He chose not to remember the terrible Church visit. It was only once, and yet it was so dark and  cold cold cold  that he knew he’d never go back. They couldn’t make him. They  couldn’t.)

It was a cheerful Sunday morning, or, rather, as cheerful as morning in London could be, when he was joined rather suddenly at the breakfast table. Normally he was given quite a wide berth; it seemed today he would have company. Wonderful. He turned a glare on the unexpected addition to his table and was surprised when it was met with a grin. Most of the other children would have run off. 

The boy’s tray was loaded carelessly onto the table, threatening to splash him and his food. Harry glared harder. He waved unrepentantly. What the hell? 

“Good morning!” He brushed a stray tuft of blonde hair behind an ear and grinned.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I know some people are grumps in the morning.” Following that entirely baffling statement, he took a bite of cereal. ‘I’m Lucas Friar by the way. New here.” 

Ah, that explained it. He simply hadn’t had time to acclimate to the environment. 

“Well… good morning, then.” As Lucas continued to eat, Harry pondered this situation. How best to make him go away. “Since you’re new, I’ll excuse it this time, but this is my table.” The boy stared blankly. “ My  table. Where I eat.” 

Realization dawned. 

“Ohhh, I’m sorry, do we have assigned seats? The lady that brought me kind of just dumped me in a room with the uniform.” Generous term for our required dress. “I just thought people sat where they want.”

“Yes that’s true. However, most are wise enough to know where it is appropriate-“

“Thanks!” With yet  another  bright smile, he went back to eating. 

Where he was. 

At my table. 

My hands tightened into fists. A quick glance around the room revealed that while some of the kids were watching with interest, the matron and her cronies were as well. That made things more difficult. 

“Look, brat, you have to leave.”

“Why?” He looked perfectly innocent, guileless and open. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Are you-“

“Is there a problem here?” Harry resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. The matron had apparently deemed his conduct unseemly and had come to investigate. Plastering a polite smile on his face, he turned.

“Not at all, Ma’am. I was merely making the acquaintance of Mr. Friar here.” 

With narrowed eyes, she examined him for a few moments. When she smirked smugly, he knew he was in trouble. 

“In that case, you surely wouldn’t mind showing our dear Mr. Friar around the building? I expect you’ll get to know him very intimately. In fact, it might be best if you spend the week with him so that he acclimates properly.” 

A week? A whole week of dragging around this annoying puffball child? Was she serious?

“Are you certain, Ma’am? There are many other children older and more qualified-“

“No, I’m quite sure you’re the best for the task.” She turned a mildly kinder smile on the boy across from him. “Let me know if he does  anything  untoward.” With a final flash of teeth not unlike a shark, she pivoted and left. 

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me!”

Harry raised a singular eyebrow, feeling a headache building. This was going to be interesting. 

— 

“So, what’s the deal with this place?”

‘The deal?” He responded, making sure to inject the statement with the right amount of disdain. Lucas did not become flustered as planned. 

“Yeah, the deal. It’s so.. dark and gloomy. Grey everywhere and stuff.” 

“The walls are stone.” He said flatly. Here the boy finally flushed. 

“Well, yeah, but everyone is so sad! Moping around, barely even talking to each other. It’s like prison.”

“An apt description.” Taking pity on him, he continued. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re orphaned. Some people have dead parents, some were abandoned, but everyone is poor as dirt. There’s nothing to be happy about.” He gestured towards the children milling about the courtyard. “They’re just waiting around to die at this point.”

Lucas looked distraught. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. “What, were you expecting little orphan Annie? Be realistic, Lucas! What place does cheer have here?” He shut his mouth with a clack and looked away. When he turned back, his face was set with determination. 

“Well,  I’m going to make these people happy.” 

Harry went to scoff, when the sound died in his throat. The exuberance and casual flippancy was gone, replaced with steel. He stood straighter. Hie bright blue eyes shone as if illuminated by inner light. 

Harry still thought the boy was an idiot. Perhaps not as incompetent as he seemed, however.

— 

They didn’t speak again until the bus to school. 

Lucas shadowed him as ordered, but tried to make friends with the other kids at the orphanage. They scorned him, most likely because he was seen with Harry, and Lucas became more desperate as the morning dragged on. Harry didn’t try to help but he did shoot him amused glances from time to time. 

They loaded onto the bus, bags jostling uncomfortably. Used to sitting alone, Harry grumbled when he was forced to scooch over in order to accommodate Lucas’ size. 

“So… school is fun.”

“No, it isn’t.” 

“Yes it is! You meet new friends, learn lots of cool stuff - like dinosaurs. At my last school, I learned all about dinosaurs. Did you know that the Argentinosaurus could grow to be 37 meters tall? And, and, did you know that the word “dinosaur” comes from Greek and means a terrible lizard-“

“I did.”

“No you didn’t!” I snapped my book shut, startling him. 

“Do you ever stop talking? I’m trying to read.”

He frowns, looks down, and fiddles with some string attached to his bags.

Despite the persistent chattering of the other students, it feels uncomfortably quiet. 

— 

School is as it always is, boring but still somewhat satisfying. Lucas is nowhere to be seen. Harry doesn’t think much of it, choosing instead to focus on math and science. 

Later, he wished he hadn’t. 

When Lucas joins him on the bus, as per his instructions, his hands aren’t empty. In them sits a small white rabbit. A living rabbit. A breathing, eating-his-backpack-fringe rabbit.

“Why are you holding a rabbit, Lucas?” His tone is amicable but his eyes are hard and Lucas flinches a bit. 

“I found him.”

“You... found him.” 

He grins a bit sheepishly, perhaps remembering that they were in school all day and as such should not have picked up any stray animals. 

“He was in the yard, all alone-“

“He was a lab rat, then, or a class pet of some sort.”

Lucas looked as though he was about to interrupt but my hand stilled him.

“I’d like to know why you took it upon yourself to bring the thing with you.”

“He’s not a thing, he’s Velveteen, and he’s my friend!”

Despite myself I feel my lips twitching. A Margery Williams fan? 

I consider him carefully. Pets aren’t really a thing at the orphanage - there isn’t a strict rule against them, but no one can afford the necessary materials. It will attract attention.

On the other hand, the boy across from him didn’t look like he’d be giving up any time soon.His face was flushed, maybe from embarrassment but probably from determination. He was breathing heavily. Harry was seized by a sudden desire to ruin it, to run his hands all over it and-

Forget it. He snapped back into focus and forced his face into impassivity. 

“I suppose you can keep him. Don’t let him near my things.”

If Lucas’ beaming smile lit up the seat, Harry was **quite** sure he didn’t notice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! As of now it’s more background development, I promise the story will pick up once we reach Hogwarts.


End file.
